


When Boromir Met Théodred

by Oshun



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Gondor, M/M, Minas Tirith, Rohan, Third Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshun/pseuds/Oshun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord of the Rings slash (Boromir/Théodred). Two double drabbles. Young Boromer and Théodred experience one another's cities. (Originally written and posted on the Henneth Annûn story archive in 2010--I cannot believe it was that long ago! Time flies.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories of the White City

When Théodred of Rohan had visited Minas Tirith, Boromir had given him a thorough tour of all the sights of capital of Gondor, from the grand halls of the Citadel to the taverns and inns of the lower city. In fact, they discovered one modest, comfortable inn, with a discreet proprietor and a convenient private entrance, for which they developed a particular fondness. The lads had parted well over a year previously, no longer simply two fledgling lords, strangers, heirs of the rulers of their allied countries, but two youths who had grown to be far more than friends.  
  
Boromir's last memory was of Théodred swinging onto his horse with a surreptitious wink, tall and handsome, yellow hair gleaming in the sun, looking like a golden prince straight out of a boy's adventure book. They had already expressed their warm good-byes in the privacy of Boromir's room.  
  
"On behalf of my father and the people of Rohan," Théodred said, his voice official and correct, his incipient grin almost entirely suppressed, "I bid you farewell and thank you, Boromir son of Denethor, for your most gracious hospitality. I look forward to showing you my country in the not too distant future."  
  



	2. Impressions of the Golden Hall

Unglazed windows sat high under the eaves. In the roof a giant louver, with moveable slats, stood open exposing a rectangle of sky, releasing smoke and admitting light. Boromir studied the carvings on the interior wooden supports of the Meduseld. The bas-reliefs of magnificent horses and warriors had been gilded with gold or painted vivid colors. Woven cloth banners hung down from the rafters, swaying gently in the rising heat, depicting spectacular scenes of heroes, battles, feats of horsemanship, and more horses—everywhere horses. At the south end of the hall facing the main door stood a dais upon which rested the king's golden throne. Although the hall showed neither the age nor anything approaching the grandeur or legendary connection to the great days of Númenor of the vaulted roof and marble columns of the Merethrond in Minas Tirith, he felt power and nobility reflected in this hall.   
  
"Well, what do you think?" Théodred asked, his lips close to Boromir's ear.  
  
"I don't know exactly what I imagined, but it is somehow different, marvelous in fact. I am most happy to be here," Boromir answered.   
  
"I surely hope you are," Théodred whispered, his voice hot and seductive on Boromir's neck.

* * *


End file.
